


Thy cup runneth over

by Slappersonly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crossdressing, Fluff, M/M, domestic banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slappersonly/pseuds/Slappersonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb finds Jim wearing a strange piece of clothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thy cup runneth over

When Seb walks into Jim's flat, the dim lights are on but it is completely silent. He unlaces his shoes and toes them off, leaving them by the front door. Jim's phone and keys are on the side in the open kitchen, though, so Seb tosses his coat over the back of the settee and helps himself to a glass from one of the cupboards, filling it from the filter in the fridge. There's a jar of questionable contents on the middle shelf, and Seb tilts it to one side, screwing his nose up as the lumpy contents slowly slide down the glass. Jim's large, chocolatey brown poodle pads into the kitchen, claws clicking on the hardwood floor, and growls lowly. Seb resists the urge to kick the useless animal.

After draining the glass, Seb sets it on the side and crosses to the circular staircase, heading up to the second level. Jim's door is slightly open, throwing a fan of light across across the floor. Seb pushes it open, not bothering with knocking- he's seen Jim in pretty much every state possible, so they've lost their sense of privacy together. Or so he thought.

Jim's standing in front of the full length mirror, head tilted contemplatively. His vanity isn't what's surprising; it's the plain black bra that is surprising. It looks especially incongruous when paired with Jim's black boxer-briefs. Jim's hands are on his slim waist, back turned to Seb. Seb can't help but look Jim up and down, eyes lingering on the black lace of the bra contrasting starkly against the long, pale dip of his spine. Jim's eyes meet Seb's in the mirror, wide and dark, and he raises a slim eyebrow.

Seb can't help it. He laughs.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Jim throws him a sarcastically concerned look, entirely unashamed.

“Are you going blind? Do I need a new sharpshooter?”

“What are you _doing_?”

“Thinking,” Jim replies.

Seb raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes. Several years of being close to Jim, and yet the other man still never fails to surprise Sebastian with his bizarre and manic brand of logic. Shaking his head slightly, he sits on the edge of the large bed.

“About what?”

“Nothing you could wrap your braincell around.”

Seb's used to Jim taking pot-shots at his inferior intelligence, but hey- at least he'd never be caught hanging around in women's underwear.

“Well, don't let me stop you, Jane.”

He shuffles to get comfortable, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. Jim drops his arms to his sides and sighs loudly, sounding put out.

Seb shifts, raising up onto his knees and walking on them to the edge of the bed, reaching out and pulling Jim back against him, wrapping his arms around the other man's slim waist.

“Tell me what were you thinking about, baby?” he asks in a put-on, babying voice, resting his chin on Jim's shoulder.

“Don't touch me,” Jim snaps.

Seb slides his hands down, fingers splayed across Jim's soft stomach before sliding down to his sharp hip bones and grasping him, shaking him gently by the hips.

“But you look so pretty,” Seb coos, and Jim's eyebrows lower in a flat, unamused line as he glowers at Seb in the mirror.

“You need to shave, though,” Seb continues, and scratches his short nails across Jim's lower abdomen, through the crisp hair leading up to his navel. Jim makes a low, irritated noise and jerks his shoulder up, dislodging Seb's chin. Seb laughs and touches his mouth to the nape of Jim's neck, lips pressed against the prominent knob of his spine. He kisses along the curve of his shoulder, trailing the tip of his tongue along Jim's smooth skin.

“I'm not your wife,” he says flatly, but his voice lacks any real venom.

“No,” Seb agrees, voice muffled by Jim's shoulder, “a good wife would have my dinner ready after a hard day's work.”

His hands slide up to the black satiny bra, sad and empty against Jim's flat chest. He cups it, thumbs brushing over the firm material where Jim's nipples would be were his chest fuller.

“That, and you'd need bigger tits.”

Jim snorts derisively and quickly twists, knocking Seb's chin on his shoulder as he turns to face him. He pushes Seb so that he tumbles backwards, laughing slightly, and follows him, manhandling him until he's lying down, where Jim sits on him.

“Excuse me,” he says, mock affronted and a little disinterested, “I think you'll find I'm perfectly well endowed.”

“Couldn't agree more,” Seb accedes lightly. “More than a handful's a waste, and all that.”

Jim leans forwards, palms braced on either side of Seb's head. Seb can't help but imagine how he might look if he _did_ actually have tits, full breasts pushing together as Jim tilts down towards him with his lips curling. His fingers skirt along Seb's broad shoulders, stroking lightly along the dark fabric of his shirt before they reach his braces, which he pulls and lets snap against Seb's chest.

“Dapper,” Jim says. “Have you been time travelling?”

“It's upside-down day,” Seb replies, fingers sliding up up Jim's spine and slipping under the back of the bra, copying Jim and snapping it. “I've gone through time, and you've been cross-dressing.”

Jim sits up quickly, scowling, his fingers digging sharply into Seb's chest.

“ _Not_ cross-dressing. Thinking.”

Seb reaches up and grasps him by the hips, pulling him upwards as he moves his legs. There's a brief moment where their limbs tangle awkwardly, and Jim gets aggravated and pulls away to leave, and he still looks so ridiculous that Seb can't help but laugh, but they eventually settle back with Jim straddling his leg, his thigh pressed firmly between Seb's.

It's rare, very rare, that Jim will settle long enough to let Seb reciprocate with anything sexual. Their encounters are usually incredibly spontaneous, the result of Jim pinning Seb down in the heat of the moment and getting Seb off before he can gather his thoughts and whirling away again before Seb even catches his breath. It usually involves violence, too, and just once, just _once_ it might be nice for Seb to have an orgasm in his friend's presence without getting backhanded.

“You think too much,” Seb purrs, sliding his hands around Jim's hips, fingers dipping past the waistband of his underwear.

“Someone has to,” Jim replies archly, and reaches back, curling his fingers firmly around Seb's wrist and pulling his hands out from where they had slid down to cup his arse.

“I bet you were thinking about lipstick,” Seb continues, instead splaying his fingers across Jim's taut thighs. He tenses his own thigh and pushes up slightly before relaxing and repeating the gesture. He sets up a rhythm, slow and deliberate, which makes Jim's eyebrows draw together. He raises up a little and Seb thinks that's it, it's over, but then he spreads his legs further apart and settles down again, rocking lazily against Seb's thigh. Seb can feel him growing hard against his leg, and feels a thrill of satisfaction that they might finally be in for the long haul. He reaches up and brushes his thumb along Jim's lower lip. Jim turns his head and catches it with his mouth, catching the pad between his teeth and sliding the tip of his tongue across the skin before sucking lightly.

“Red would suit you,” Seb says, and Jim huffs irritably, leaning down until their noses brush.

“Will you shut up about the fucking bra?” he hisses, and Seb grins. Jim bites his lower lip painfully before licking into his mouth, nimble fingers pushing the braces from Seb's shoulder before tugging at the buttons of his shirt. Jim throws himself into the task at hand, biting the side of Seb's jaw before sucking down his neck, short fingernails scoring burning lines down Seb's chest as he tugs his shirt open. Seb grinds up against Jim's leg and runs his palms up along his ribs, fingers sliding along the lace back of the bra and gripping the clasp.

Jim quickly pulls away from where he is painfully biting a bruise into Seb's shoulder.

“Careful,” he gasps, and Seb raises an eyebrow at him as he carefully unhooks the bra before slowly sliding the straps down over his shoulders. Jim holds the cups to his chest delicately as he leans forward and places the bra up at the head of the bed, out of reach of any potentially flailing limbs. He settles back down and studiously ignores the disbelieving look on Seb's face, instead pushing his own leg firmly against Seb as he rocks against his. They set up a quick rhythm that has them both panting and Jim leans forwards, hands roughly cradling Seb's face. Their gazes meet, Jim's dark eyes flicking over Seb's face, almost uncomfortably intense. He rubs a thumb over the scar marring Seb's upper lip, a blemish that Jim has always been strangely drawn to, before he dips down to bite at it. Seb tilts his head up to fit their mouths together, tongues sliding against each other, hot and wet. Jim pulls Seb's shirt out of his dress trousers, fingers trailing over the grey fabric, popping the button out and pulling the fly down slowly, pressing down on Seb's erection.

He can't help the low noise that rolls out of him, and he runs his fingers up Jim's chest, brushing over his nipples, before sliding back down his sides to grasp his hips, pulling him down to meet Seb's thrusts. Seb's cards his fingers through Jim's short, dark hair, thumb resting behind his ear, fingernails scraping across his scalp as his other hand slides down the bare expanse of Jim's back to grasp his arse as he rolls his hips. Jim tucks his face against the curve of Seb's shoulder, warm breath dampening the skin every time he pants. Seb turns his face towards Jim's, nose brushing his hair, lips brushing his ear.

“Come on, James,” he whispers, and Jim's spine bows and his chest heaves as he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, biting sharply and painfully at Seb's shoulder as he comes. Seb draws the palm of his hand up and down the dip of Jim's spine as he shudders through his orgasm. He's still aroused, cock almost painfully hard, but, patient, he resists the urge to push up against Jim. After a moment, Jim's breathing evens out and he sits up. His eyelids are slightly heavy, pupils blown, a faint blush staining the top of his cheeks, lips flushed and kiss swollen. He looks like he's been fucking ravished, but the carefully detached, schooled look is already falling back into place. Still, the fact that he looks so dishevelled _does_ stuff to Seb, and he tugs him back down for another biting kiss. He can't help but arch upwards against Jim's leg, and the movement causes Jim to hiss, pulling back from the kiss and grimacing. He raises up off of Seb's thigh with a look of distaste, the spreading wet patch at the front of his boxers barely visible against the dark material.

If Jim walks out now, Seb thinks, he'll fucking kill him, so help him God he will, but Jim settles back down between his legs and immediately slides his left hand under the waistband of Seb's trousers and underwear, grasping his cock tightly. Seb's hips push into his hand automatically and Jim starts working his cock quickly, almost painfully. He looks aloof and almost bored now that he's got off, and that's so infuriatingly _Jim_ that Seb can't even be pissed off. Jim slides his right hand up the outside of Seb's leg, thumb brushing across his hipbone before he rests his palm on Seb's abdomen, rubbing across the hair there. Seb's orgasm creeps up on him and he arches, thighs tightening either side of Jim's legs as he comes. Jim carries on slowly pulling at his cock as he spurts across his stomach, until Seb is wincing and kneeing his side, over sensitive, murmuring for him to stop.

He drops his head back on the bed to catch his breath, feeling overwhelmingly smug. Jim examines his sticky fingers with distaste before rising up on his knees and removing his soiled boxers gracelessly, wiping his hand off on the dark material before swiping it across Seb's abdomen before throwing them aside. Seb lifts his head up and pulls a face at Jim, a little disgusted.

“Really?” he asks, and Jim shrugs a thin shoulder, shameless, and slips off the bed and heading out of the room. Seb lies there until he hears the sudden hiss of the shower in the next room. He stretches out on the bed, yawning, his arms reaching out above his head, fingers splayed. They catch the shoulder strap of the bra that Jim was wearing when Seb first found him. The absurdity of the situation piques his curiosity, and he does his trousers up before shucking off his shirt and heading to the bathroom. Jim is already in the shower and says nothing as Seb walks in. Seb examines himself in the mirror which is slowly fogging up, scratching at a small patch of semen on his stomach that Jim missed and is already dry.

“Seriously, though- what was with the bra?” he asks, picking at the tangled hair with his thumb nail.

“What?” Jim asks sharply, running his fingers through his hair and turning his head in Seb's direction. Seb rolls his eyes and crosses to the shower door, yanking it open. Steam rolls out and Jim turns to face him, frowning and blinking soapy water out of his eyes.

“The _bra_ ,” Seb repeats.

“Oh. Client,” Jim explains, and holds out his hand imperiously for a towel, which Seb passes him.

“Client?” he echoes, and Jim gives him a baleful look from under the towel as he rubs at his hair before tucking it around his waist. The force of the look is greatly lessened by Jim's spiked up damp hair, and so Seb doesn't really mind.

“Are you going deaf as well as blind? A client. Man in Newcastle, wants to top his cheating wife.”

“With... a bra?”

Standing in front of the mirror, Jim flattens his hair before scrubbing his fingers through it again until his is satisfied, reaching for an expensive bottle of moisturiser on the sink. He squirts it into his hand before rubbing it into his face. Seb waits patiently while Jim goes about his usual, girly routine.

“It's lined with explosives, which is why I was wearing it. Needed to make sure it wasn't noticeable. The ignition wire will run through the underwiring to the clasps. When she fastens it- boom. No more wife.”

Seb gapes at him.

“Lined with explosives? And you were _wearing it?_ ”

Jim rolls his eyes.

“Oh, please, it isn't live yet. It's fine. Mostly. As long as you're gentle with it.”

Seb has no words for Jim's lack of regard for his own life, so he simply steps behind Jim once more and, mirroring his earlier action, bites his shoulder before flicking his ear and leaving the bathroom. Jim flails his arm backwards ineffectually, missing Seb entirely.

“You're fucking insane, you know that?” he calls over his shoulder as he walks through the hall and down the stairs.

“Ring for Pad Thai,” is Jim's only reply, and Seb can't help but grin.


End file.
